


Once upon a red moon

by Liatheus



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Erotic Electrostimulation, Genjutsu, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liatheus/pseuds/Liatheus
Summary: Collection of MadaKaka smut





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Moving my MadaKaka smut oneshots from tumblr to here cause it's nice to have all my porn in one place :)

It’s hot.

He drips with sweat, far, far too aware of each watery bead as they trickle down his temples, the back of his neck, the curve of his spine, the swell of his calves. They drip into the fabric of his shirt and pants and make the damp cloth cling to his body, trapping the heat against his skin. He thinks he will be smothered, flushed and drenched and sweltering, until he is no more than blazing sensation moulded in the vague shape of a human. His hair sticks irritatingly to his forehead, some wayward strands creeping over his eyes, fuzzy lines of silver-grey cutting through his vision. His mouth is open, taking in thin, heaving breaths.

It hurts.

His whole body aches, straining futilely against the hands holding him, his muscles too exhausted to allow him to do anything beyond the meekest attempt at a shove. He feels sore and tired and so, so desperate for heat to end.

He breaks.

“Please.”

His voice is ragged, the sound he made more a gasp than a word, but it’s all he can manage when his head is spinning and his body is burning and all he wants is sweet relief. A hand traces up his arm to his jaw, the touch light and unhurried, leaving behind a soft, trailing tingle. Rough and calloused fingers flutter across his cheekbone before his face is cupped against a firm, strong palm. Were he in any other situation, something like embarrassment would crawl pink and feverish into his cheeks at the caress, and he would duck his head and offer some flimsy excuse to leave the room entirely. As he is now, any such heat would simply be too indistinct from the rest of the blaze rippling through him. He presses back against the touch.

“Madara, please.”

The hand curls under his chin and tilts his head upwards. Two dark eyes watch him, and he stares back, catching sight of a lustful, possessive gleam. It’s enough to make him hope, but then the eyes begin to swirl with red and he lets out a sob that’s almost a howl because it’s too much and he can’t take anymore, _he wants, oh god please he wants it to end_.

He tries to jerk his head away but the hand holds firm on his chin; his own hands unclench from where they were fisted in the front of Madara’s shirt and scrabble futilely against the grip on his face. His mind is too frantic to think to simply shut his own eyes, and then it’s too late and Madara throws him down onto the tatami mats and crawls over him.

Suddenly they’re naked and Kakashi has no idea how, but it doesn’t matter because Madara is finally touching him strong and hard in exactly the way he wants, bodies crashing together in a frenzied, desperate grind. Thin lips press against his; he opens his mouth and welcomes Madara’s tongue, a moan slipping from his throat. His hands come up and bury themselves in Madara’s long black mane, unwilling to give him even the slightest chance of escaping the kiss until Kakashi’s had his fill.

His legs spread wider and he can’t help but writhe against the other man even as they kiss sloppy and hard and punishing, Kakashi biting unforgivably at Madara’s lips. The drag of his cock along the chiselled planes of Madara’s lower stomach makes him moan again, and he practically ruts against him, the friction sending sweet thrills of pleasure shooting through his body. Madara lets out a growl and shakes free of Kakashi’s hold, and Kakashi would cry out in protest except Madara is sucking and biting his way down across his neck and chest and stomach, stroking down his sides and massaging his heated skin.

Kakashi barely knows what to do with himself, raw and overwhelmed and so, so fucking hard he can hardly stand it. His dick twitches between their bodies, hot, heavy and thick with pulsating blood, every whispered touch sending an electrifying throb sparking between his legs. He thinks he must be dripping obscenely with the way every nip and brush of Madara’s teeth and tongue sends his body shuddering with pleasure.

He’s panting.

He aches.

His body thrusts upwards of its own accord, heat and desire searching desperately for an outlet the other man refuses to yield, hands skimming down to hold tight on his hips.

Kakashi whines, a high keening cry that soars into a long, incredulous moan when Madara suddenly drops his head into Kakashi’s groin and nuzzles his dick like an overly affectionate cat, the wild strands of his hair ghosting the sensitive flesh of Kakashi’s inner thighs. If it weren’t for Madara’s strength pinning his hips to the floor, Kakashi would be thrusting wantonly into his face. As it is, he can only throw his head back and dig his nails into the grooves of the tatami mats, half-choked whimpers leaking from his mouth because it’s _good_ and _too much_ and _not enough_ all at once.

Madara teases the tip of his cock with a swirling, flicking tongue; Kakashi gasps, breath hitching, and _fuck_ , he wants more, needs more, he’s strung out and been left hanging for so long he thinks he might just die if he doesn’t get release soon. The muscles of his legs and core are twinging at him in protest, sore and tired from how he can’t stop twitching and squirming under Madara’s touch, but they’re drowned out by the scream between his thighs. If Madara doesn’t stop teasing soon, then Kakashi won’t be held responsible for the consequences because he’s sure he’s half out of his mind with heat and need and lust.

As if reading his mind, Madara finally trails a hand down past his cock, stopping by his balls to give them a quick, friendly squeeze, rubbing hard against his perineum before settling right over the sensitive ring of his arse. He’s wet, so wet, impossibly wet, he doesn’t understand how, but Madara doesn’t waste any time, fingers pressing in and crooking _just right_ and _yes there_ and all his thoughts fracture and fly straight from his head until there is nothing but thrilling sensation. He’s outright crying, his head shaking side to side, can’t stop the way his body arches up and fucks back on Madara’s fingers, the heat and the need rising higher and higher and he’s _so close, just please Madara please_ —

His throat feels hoarse and raspy, but it doesn’t stop him from emitting a loud guttural moan when Madara finally gets over the foreplay and sinks into him in a slow, strained push and it’s _good_ and _perfect_ , he can’t remember anything being more perfect than being held open by strong hands, practically bent in half, every relentless, ruthless thrust striking beautifully against his prostrate and sending sharp sparks of pleasure skating through his body.

Unrestrained moans rip from his mouth, and he reaches up and clings dear for life, fingers winding into thick black tresses.

Madara fucks him like the world is going to end, and then Kakashi’s world does, quaking and surging and there is nothing but _yes yesohgodyes_ —

—and the genjutsu ends, and he’s back in their room of the newly renovated Uchiha Compound, sitting fully clothed in Madara’s lap. The aftershocks of pleasure from his illusory orgasm rake through him, eyes falling shut and his body trembling as he rides along the world-shattering waves until they slowly ebb away into a still-aching but containable heat. When he finally regains his breath and the blissful fog of his mind clears just enough for some clarity of thought to become possible again, he blinks his eyes open and sees Madara’s smug face, dark irises staring with infuriating self-satisfaction into his own. Kakashi notices belatedly that his own hands are clutching at the other man’s shoulders, rumpling the thick cloth of his shirt.

He decides he has neither a scrap of energy or dignity left; he lets himself fall forward and hangs off Madara’s chest, burying his face into the crook of the Uchiha’s shoulder. The movement causes his untouched erection to chafe inside his pants, a frisson rolling up his spine, a flare of the frantic, manic heat from before beginning to recoil low in his belly. It’s just on the good side of pain, and he whimpers, a high pitched breathy sound that he’ll most definitely deny he made in the morning.

Madara hums low in response, sweeping broad, firm strokes up and down his back as if tracing the ripples of sensation starting to swell up in him. His shirt, damp with sweat and clinging uncomfortably to his skin, ride up with every pass of Madara’s hands.

“I want to come,” Kakashi whines, breathy and wrecked against the musk and sweat of Madara’s skin. His dick twitches at the thought and he sucks hungrily at Madara’s neck to emphasise his point, his lower body already squirming where they sit atop the powerful cords of Madara’s thighs.

“You have.” Even through his haze of frustration and pleasure, Kakashi can make out the undertone of amusement Madara’s voice despite its rough, lusty quality. The devilish bastard tilts his head and kisses Kakashi teasingly at his temple. “Again, I might add.”

Kakashi groans, because he has, thirty-eight times in the last hour— _fourdaysthreehourstwentynineminutesfiftyfiveseconds_ —against walls and on floors and over his deskchairkitchencounter; on his knees and his back and his sides; tight in Madara’s body and his mouth and his hands; Madara in him, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting against his sweet spot—his hips jerk again as the memories of what they had done in Madara’s genjutsus send another spasm of arousal to his dick, and it’s tight and hot and painful and _fuck it’s been so long already, he wants to come goddammit_!

He’s helpless to stop the little cry that escapes him as the pressure starts to build again. His hips rock upwards in seek of friction, uncontrolled jerks and shudders that make his hard cock drag short and stilted against his soaked underwear.

It’s hot.

It hurts.

He wants more, wants _harder_ , _faster, please please please_

Immediately Madara’s hands cease petting his back and drop to his thighs, nails digging sharply into Kakashi’s skin through his pants, halting his motions. Kakashi doesn’t know what he wants more in that moment: to finish, or to finish Madara, but then those hands are finally— _finally—_ reaching into his pants and caressing the dip of the line between leg and body. Two thumbs press along the outline of his erection, moving up, up, up until they reach the button of his pants and pop it free. That tiny release has Kakashi gasping, his dick throbbing. The hands clutching at Madara’s shoulders tighten enough to bruise; it takes everything in him not to arch up again, fearful that the other man would cease his touches.

“Madara, I want to come,” he repeats, mumbling into pale skin, just in case Madara could have possibly forgotten the state he was in.

“Patience, Kakashi.”

Incensed, Kakashi pulls back to shout in Madara’s face, because _fuck him_ , Kakashi has been patient, Kakashi has been so fucking patient—but freezes when he sees the look the dark-haired man is giving him, the one that’s practically a leer and almost always precedes the most glorious orgasms Kakashi has ever had in his life. A thumb trails over the zip of his pants and gently pulls it down.

Kakashi whimpers again.

“After all, we still have all night.”

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments highly appreciated!<3


	2. Chapter 2

It’s an overwhelmingly powerful feeling being able to reduce Uchiha Madara to a helpless quivering mass.

Kakashi isn’t sure he likes it.

Still, he takes charge, letting the tingle of chakra ripple down his arm to the tips of his middle and index fingers of his right hand, the two fingers buried deep in Madara’s hot, trembling body.

Madara is watching him, all wide eyes and panting mouth and heaving chest, legs splayed open and mess of inky black hair whipping across white bedsheets.

Kakashi locks eyes with smouldering black, then lets the fine discharge of lightning chakra go.

Ah, but fuck if the reaction he gets doesn’t make his dick throb hard and heavy in his pants; Madara throws his head back, black strands tousling all around him, and his hips lift up and his back arches into a perfect bow.

“ _Ah!_ ”

Taking a steadying breath, Kakashi does it again, the lightest stream of lightning chakra he can produce, the smallest, most insignificant spark–

“Fuck, ‘Kashi—!”

Madara’s body hasn’t even hit the bed yet before he’s rising again, thighs quaking with the strain.

His whole body is flush pink and shiny with sweat, eyes completely dazed when he collapses back onto damp sheets.

Kakashi figures he should give him a few seconds to catch his breath, pulling his fingers out and teasing instead at the rim of his hole with circular strokes.

Madara gives a weak moan, a soft little “ _hnn_ ” at the sensation, his hips pushing back as if to demand more of Kakashi’s fingers.

Kakashi drags his gaze from the wet lips of Madara’s mouth, bitten and licked raw and red, down past the clenching muscles of his abs to where his dick stands hard and dripping between his legs.

The sight makes Kakashi’s head grow dizzy, staring at the way the tip of his dick glistens with precome, the little bridge of the frenulum leading down to the curl of foreskin just under the head, the dark angry colour of the blood rushing through his cock, the swollen weight of his balls.

Kakashi licks his lips and slips his fingers back into Madara’s body, being sure to just lightly breeze past his sweet spot.

Madara tenses, squirms, hands clutching tight at the sheets on his either side, hips rutting slightly into air.

“‘Kashi,” he whines, and Kakashi wonders how it’s him that’s made the Uchiha terror breathless and begging beneath his fingers, “wanna… please…”

“You want to come?” Kakashi asks, and shit, he hadn’t meant for his own voice to come out so dark with arousal.

Not that it matters, not with the way the Uchiha is so gone and wrecked, all slurred words and aching gasps, but Kakashi curls his fingers anyway, lust and vindication exciting his blood when another stream of thin precome spurts from Madara’s dick and wets his stomach.

“ _Mm, yes, please, want to come—!_ ”

Kakashi’s breath hitches in his throat—Madara so sweet and submissive and wanting–

Something splits inside Kakashi’s head; he’s hardly aware of anything other than the crippling, ravenous desire to make it  _good_ , make Madara  _scream_ , make Madara scream _his_ name—

His other hand comes up and he places the pads of two fingers right over the weeping slit of the head of Madara’s cock, positions the two fingers of his other hand resting tight in Madara’s body directly over his prostrate.

Madara gives out another soft cry at the touch, but Kakashi barely hears it, too busy forcing himself to ignore the thrill running down his spine to carefully weave two fine, twin threads of lightning chakra from his core, sending him down his arms, holding them right at the tip of his fingers, letting the heat build…

Madara whimpers, his eyes fluttering shut, sucks in a long, desperate breath…

Kakashi lets the sparks loose.

Madara screams.

“Ka—!  _‘Kashi!_ ”

His body arches up with such force, Kakashi’s fingers slip straight out of his body.

He watches in total awe as Madara trembles in the air, toes and hands digging sharp into the sheets and mattress as every tendon and muscle strains with the strength of his orgasm. He comes long and hard, thick white strands bursting from his twitching cock, gasping for breath.

When he comes down, both physically and mentally, he lies lax and drowsy across the bed, eyes half-lid, still shivering softly with aftershocks of pleasure.

A half-choked moan escapes Kakashi’s own lips—then he’s shoving his own pants and underwear down to his knees, doesn’t even waste time slicking himself up, just pushes Madara’s thighs tight together and thrusts himself between them, his aching cock rubbing against the tender flesh of Madara’s balls.

The Uchiha moans softly in protest at the overstimulation, but makes no move to push Kakashi away, pliant and docile as he’s never been before.

Kakashi pumps his hips once, twice, three times, gaze locked on the image of Madara all soft and sweet for  _him_ , and then he’s coming, his ejaculate mixing with the creamy white splattered all over Madara’s stomach.

He uses the last of his energy to push himself off to the side, kicking off his pants and using his underwear to clean off the come coating the Uchiha’s soft body, his skin still glowing rosy from the heat of their exertions.

When he goes to kiss him, Madara simply opens his mouth and licks lazily at Kakashi’s tongue as if in greeting, a small hum slipping out his throat.

As the warmth of their bodies lulls them to sleep, Kakashi’s fingers tingle.

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments highly appreciated!<3


	3. Chapter 3

“I want to watch you touch yourself.”

Kakashi pauses halfway into leaning into another kiss and arches an eyebrow; Madara’s expression doesn’t change, an oddly arousing cross between excitement and determination glinting in his eyes.

“You want to what?” Kakashi asks, just to be sure he heard right.

“Watch you touch yourself,” Madara repeats.

He licks his lips and Kakashi can only wonder what the hell Madara is imagining as he stares at him, eyes unashamedly tracing down his bare chest.

“Alright,” Kakashi relents, after a moment’s contemplation, because it’s actually quite a tame request compared to what he’s heard other ninja get up to, and he has no particular craving for anything tonight.

Might as well indulge in his partner’s whims.

He scoots back to rest against the wall of the window sill at the head of his bed, tugging his pants and underwear down and throwing them off to the floor. Doing his best to ignore the blush beginning to rise to his cheeks, he spreads his legs just enough for Madara to be able to see as he reaches down and gives a tug on his half-hard cock.

“No.”

This time, both of Kakashi’s eyebrows fly up.

“Not like that,” Madara amends.

Kakashi is perplexed. “Then how…?”

Madara leans forward and grabs hold of both of Kakashi’s wrists, bringing them together in front of his chest. Kakashi watches as his fingers are slowly manipulated, index and middle fingers of his left hand held perpendicular to his right. Seal in place, Madara looks up at Kakashi hopefully, eyes wide in a puppy-dog expression that had made Kakashi almost choke the first time he had ever seen it.

That Madara brings the look into the bedroom is a clear sign of the Uchiha’s craftiness, Kakashi thinks, both exasperation and affection rising in his chest.

Though if nothing else, he supposes it makes their bedroom adventures all the more exciting, especially since Madara seems to be trying to make up for over a hundred years of isolation with some of the most vigorous, mind-blowing sex Kakashi’s ever had.

Catching the smile leaking out onto Kakashi’s face, Madara grins back, triumphant, then shifts backwards to the foot of the bed.

Shaking his head and laughing just a little, Kakashi activates the jutsu.

A cloud of smoke appears in the small space between them; when it disperses, Kakashi’s shadow clone squats on the bed, fully clothed in standard shinobi uniform, including his personal mask and forehead protector, the disaffected expression on his face betrayed only by the way his eyes turn immediately to roam across the naked body of the original, assessing.

Kakashi returns the interest openly, trying to look at himself from an objective point of view. He supposes that his silver hair is rare enough even in the shinobi world to maybe draw someone’s attention, and if he’s learnt anything from the Icha Icha series, it’s that the idea of ‘tall and mysterious’ is something that people find attractive.

Well, he has the tall part down, for sure.

Perhaps the mask could make up the mysterious part?

His musings are interrupted when Madara makes a low sound, something between a hum and a growl. Both Kakashis turn towards him, watching as his face darkens at the twin gazes.

Madara lifts a hand and beckons the clone over with a crooked finger; the clone looks back and waits until Kakashi gives a small shrug before crawling its way over to Madara.

Not entirely sure what to do, Kakashi settles back, closing his knees back together and resting his hands at his sides, and simply watches his lover divest his clone of his flak vest. As Madara reaches up to undo the knot of the forehead protector, he leans in to whisper into the clone’s ear, something that makes the clone shiver and nod.

Kakashi’s pulse speeds up at the sight of Madara’s self-satisfied smirk, a light throb of arousal shooting through his dick. The thrumming of his blood seems to get even louder when Madara peels down the clone’s mask and tilts his head down to kiss it.

It’s somehow both weird and hot watching his likeness kiss Madara, seeing the way his own body rises up and his neck arches back as the kiss grows heavy, one of Madara’s hands sliding up to fist into silver strands—if he just ignores the fact that it’s himself, there, Kakashi thinks the two of them actually look pretty good together.

Good enough that his dick throbs again, hardening completely and giving a little twitch when his brain jumps several steps and offers him the image of the two of them fucking, a spectator’s view of how Madara likes to drives into him hard and relentless, how he gives back every bit as good as he gets until Madara quakes and moans beneath him.

He imagines two Madaras on their knees, soft and submissive before him, ready and waiting for his bidding, and oh Sage, he’s never had anything even close to a power complex before, clearly hanging around the Uchiha is doing things to him.

Doing him.

Oh Sage.

He squirms slightly, the movement catching the attention of the two making out on his bed.

Madara smirks again, then moves off the bed and makes himself comfortable at Kakashi’s desk chair, straddling the seat and folding his arms over the headrest.

“Go on then,” he says, clearly ready for a show.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, but dutifully rises onto his knees and shuffles over to meet his clone in the middle of the bed.

“I suspect you know exactly what he wants?” he asks it, watching as his clone leans against the wall, legs spread out over the width of the bed, feet dangling over the edge.

“Mm,” replies his clone with an impish smile, eyes sly, and oh, they’ve definitely got something planned if he’s looking at himself that way. His clone pats the space between his legs. “Come here.”

Mildly wary, Kakashi does as he’s asked, far too aware of his nakedness as he leans back into the warmth of his clone’s chest, the cotton of his shirt soft against his skin. Madara is right in front of them, barely two steps away in the small space of his bedroom, interest and satisfaction written all over his face.

The scrutiny is nerve-wracking; Kakashi’s not sure he’ll ever entirely get used to the way Madara looks at him like this, hungry and lust-driven, that infamous Uchiha obsessiveness focused completely on him.

Still, he gazes back, even as familiar hands begin trailing down his sides and chest, moving down past his hips to coax his legs back open, knees bending as they’re pushed out wide. His clone slips his own legs under his, knees too moving up and out until Kakashi’s legs are effectively hooked around his clone’s, held open by strong, muscular thighs.

Immediately Madara’s gaze drops to his groin, to his cock, now hard and flushed pink and curving up to his stomach.

Suddenly his own voice, at once familiar and not, warm and sultry in his ear.

“I think he likes that,” his clone whispers, and Kakashi has to agree, like it isn’t obvious with the way Madara’s tongue darts out to lick at his lips again, the way he leans forward almost unconsciously as if to get a better look even though he already has the only front row seat.

“I would say so, yes,” Kakashi breathes back, turning his head around over his shoulder to glance at his clone, a mischievous smile on its face he can’t help but mirror.

It’s him, after all, so of course they’re thinking the same thing as they lean in to kiss each other, mouths parting and tongues peeking out to press and swipe softly over thin lips, just the way he likes when it’s all about the build-up, and the tease. A hitch of breath to the side lets them know that the move has its intended effect, and he smiles again to himself, feels it reflected back on his lips.

His clone pulls back, gesturing with a small head tilt for Kakashi to face forward again, fingers once more trailing over his sides and chest. He shivers from the light touch, fisting his hands into the sheets beneath him and letting his body settle more fully against his clone, sliding down a little to rest his head against the junction of his clone’s neck and shoulder.

Over his stomach, his clone is busy pulling off his gloves; they disappear with a quiet _poof!,_ then hands, warm with his will and chakra, press fully against his skin, sliding down to rub at the crease between body and thigh. Kakashi sighs at the firm contact, half for show and half genuine reaction, looking back to his front to take in the way Madara’s eyes narrow at the sound, hands clenching at the headrest of the chair.

He smiles lazily at the man, then moans when a hand finally wraps around his cock, and starts squeezing softly up and down its length, fingers massaging in tight, little circles.

It really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise that having himself jerk himself off _feels good_ , because it’s _him_ , and he knows exactly what he likes and how he likes it, knows where and how to make his breath hitch, make his blood race, sparks flying up his cock. Knowing that Madara is watching, is aroused by Kakashi on display like this, only heightens his sensitivity, every touch tickling at his nerves.

His clone’s free hand strokes back over his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs before reaching up to tweak at a nipple. Kakashi lets out a grunt when the sharp pinch makes his dick jerk; his clone tightens his grip in response, and Kakashi’s hips thrust up of their own accord.

A slow, heavy drag over his cock, right on the edge of too tight, has him wincing uncomfortably at the dry friction, even as it pulls a small drop of pre-come from the slit of his cock. A thumb smears the liquid all over the sensitive skin of his head, making his hips tense and twitch again.

A huff of laughter at his ear, a kiss at the corner of his jaw and neck.

“Ahh, I don’t remember ever being such a tease in bed,” he says, stretching his neck out to give his clone better access.

Another breath of laughter, warm and feather-light, followed by a hum moving up to his ear.

“Mmm, we both know that’s not true.” A nip at the lobe, a tongue tracing up the shell; Kakashi feels the shiver all the way down his spine. “After all, isn’t teasing half the fun?”

Kakashi pretends to give it some thought, swallowing a small moan when fingers ease off the pressure on his cock and both hands move down to pet lightly instead at his balls and inner thighs, teasing.

“I suppose so, yes,” he says again, and catches Madara’s eyes again, slips his tongue out to lick the upper corner of his mouth.

As if barely aware of himself, Madara mirrors the movement, tongue flicking out, then makes a low growling noise when he registers the words.

“It’s terrible,” he says, with that characteristic Uchiha scowl, but his voice is thick and husky, like he’s remembering exactly all those times Kakashi had teased him into a writhing, begging mess.

“You love it.” Kakashi grins, and makes a point of arching his back, dick bobbing in the air, reminding Madara of how so very much he loves it indeed.

Madara grumbles something back under his breath, but Kakashi can’t make it out over the jolt of pleasure that comes with his clone choosing that moment to work over his cock again, this time with the perfect amount of pressure. His clone sets a quick, pumping rhythm that’s far too easy to fall into, blood quickening as the beginnings of an orgasm start rolling in soft and smooth. He rides the feeling, lets his head drop back as it builds, breathes steady in time with the pumps, stomach tensing as his body readies itself for release, and—

“Madara darling, would you please pass the lube? Box under the bed, though I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”

Kakashi jerks forward as that perfect pressure abruptly vanishes, leaving him hanging and throbbing as his body strains against the loss. He exhales hard, the high of orgasm receding to a low, pulsing thrum, and turns to throw a mild look of annoyance at his clone.

“Is that really necessary?” he asks, voice breathy.

His clone chuckles, skims a hand soothingly over his clenching abs, carefully avoiding his twitching cock. “Maa, you brought me all the way here, it would be a shame to let it end so soon, don’t you think?”

There’s a retort on Kakashi’s tongue, but he loses it at the creak and shuffle of Madara getting up, then down onto hands and knees to pull out the requested box, the sudden view of Madara’s lovely backside distracting Kakashi from the sense of dissatisfaction curling between his legs. When Madara stands back up, Kakashi is graced with an unobstructed view of how hard Madara is in his pants, the outline of his cock clear and straining against black fabric.

Good. It would be unfair if he were the only one who has to wait.

His clone reaches out to take the proffered bottle of lube, popping the cap and squeezing out a generous amount over Kakashi’s cock as Madara retakes his chosen seat, movements a little stiffer than before. If it weren’t for the shivery-cool feeling of lube dripping over his cock, Kakashi would tease him again, ask him whether or not he was enjoying the show.

Instead, his anticipation hikes, and he lets out another small moan of appreciation, hips twitching, when fingers slide over his cock, smearing lube from root to head. The silk-smooth run of skin over heated skin makes him practically melt back into the touch, nerves singing again.

“Not necessary, but worth it, right?”

Sage, Kakashi knew he could be an infuriating tease, but it’s a completely new experience to be the subject of it. He can feel the smugness of his clone radiating behind him, knows instinctively that a lecherous smirk would greet him if he so deigned to turn around.

Maybe he’ll pull back on the teasing next time he and Madara fall into bed together.

Then again, catching the way Madara is eyeing him, looking the very definition of carnality and sexual desire, maybe not.

Hot, tight and slick crashes through his thoughts; he looks down to see the head of his cock breaching the channel made by the circle of his clone’s palm and fingers, watches as the channels pulls itself back over the tip, pleasure flaring.

“Ahh!”

Kakashi drops his head back as the moan vibrates out his throat, one hand flying up to grip at his clone’s upper arm. That familiar throbbing ache is back between his legs, rising hard and fast with every quick slip of hand over him. He times his breathing once more to the lurches of pleasure running up his spine, listening to the wet, squishing sound of slick skin on slick skin.

He’s close again, starting to drip with pre-come that his clone wipes away with a full-palm twist over the sensitive, exposed head of his cock, making his hips thrust up and more moans leak involuntarily out from him.

“Ahh, mmnh, yes, _haah_ , like that, keep going, _uhnn_ —"

Sudden, unbelievable, maddening _nothing_.

His cock jerks, shiny and glistening and flushed red with blood, and there’s nothing to bring him over. Pure instinct and need make him reach down, only one thing in mind, but vice grips around his wrists pull him away, leaves him quivering in the air.

Kakashi squirms, tugs futilely, thighs and stomach flexing against the urge to rut and find relief. Vaguely he’s aware that his clone is nibbling and kissing at his neck and shoulder again as it holds his hands tight on either side of their heads; he concentrates on the nip of teeth, lets its offbeat sharp pinpoints draw him away from the frustration burning all down his cock.

It’s only when the rush of sensation lulls again, and he finds the strength to look up from his poor, neglected, aching cock to see Madara practically looming over him from his chair, body pushed right up against the headrest like it’s the only thing holding him back from jumping on Kakashi right then, does he realise the game.

Madara seems to notice the exact moment Kakashi figures it out, a lecherous smirk pulling at his lips, eyes bright.  

“How many times?” The question comes out trembling, a huff of laughter riding on its tail, because really, Kakashi should have expected something like this the moment Madara made his request.

Madara sucks in a deep breath, a little noise of arousal escaping on the exhale. “Until I’m satisfied.”

Kakashi groans at the answer, slumping back into his clone who gently lowers his arms back down to the sheets, runs his fingers soothingly over the backs of Kakashi’s hands as they clench back into cotton.

“Alright?” his clone asks, nuzzling against the side of his face, silver strands tickling his cheek.

“Yeah.” Kakashi leans back, presses lips to cheek in silent thanks for the display of care. Then he draws back, and grins, all teeth and daggers and come-hither challenge. “Do your worst.”

The worst is unbearably, impossibly, maddeningly _frustrating_.

His clone goes right back to teasing, alternating between slow, tight strokes and lazy, skimming caresses that make him drip and shudder but offer no relief at all. When a thumb presses hard into his head, nail almost dipping into the urethra, his back arches forward, hips pushing back to get away from the pressure because _too much_ , except there’s nowhere to go with his clone behind him, and he curses, tears beginning to gather at the corner of his eyes.  

Over and over and over, bringing him up touch by agonising, glorious touch, but never giving him that final push. Sweat is sliding over every inch of his skin, their cool trails only adding to his hypersensitivity as every nerve seems to spark to life and send pleasure racing down his spine and up from his toes to curl and throb and rage between his legs.

It takes everything in him just to sit there and take it all, stifle down the urge to reach out and just _touch himself_ , a self-denial his clone notices and rewards him in the most terrible way: stopping all movement, and giving him a moment to breathe and tremble and regain what little composure he can muster before it’s swept away again under too-knowing hands.

_Sage, he wants to come._

The desire coils into his blood, worms its way to the very marrow of his being, pours out with every moan and sigh and gasp.

_He’s so close, please, so close, just a bit more, please, he can’t—_

“Kakashi.” Madara’s voice, dark and guttural, cuts through the haze of pleasure drowning him; he clings to the sound of his name, uses it to hold back the whimper that wants to leak out when his clone pauses too, both of them focussed on the man in front of them. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look, spread out for me like that? Touching yourself like that?”

A whine slips from Kakashi’s throat; his head shakes at the words, chest heaving.

“So beautiful for me, holding yourself open for me, letting me see everything of you.”

“Madara, please. I can’t. Please. Let me come.”

“Hold it back, Kakashi. Let me watch you a little longer.”

Kakashi heaves a breath like a sob, every muscle in his body tensing, trying to both strain towards and stave away that edge.

His clone is panting at his ear; Kakashi can feel a hardness pressing into his backside through synthetic fabric and the lust-mad part of his brain thinks he’d gladly let himself fuck himself if he could please—please!—just get relief.

It doesn’t help when he manages to squint through the pleasure-smog in his brain and realises that Madara’s arm is working rhythmically up and down in front of his crotch behind the backrest of the chair; that Madara is jerking off to him desperate and begging like this.

The hand comes back, hot and tight and relentless; his thoughts scatter, another cry rips out from his throat and he bucks into the heat, every inhibition gone.

“Oh Sage, please, _please_! Let me—ah! Please—I need, please, let me—!”

His clone releases him again and he howls, feet kicking out and hips jerking uncontrollably. He’s outright crying now, tears streaking down his face. His cock is on fire, has been dripping endlessly for what feels like forever, his balls so tight and full and he can’t, _he can’t—_

“Fuck, _Kakashi—_!”

There’s a clang as the chair clutters to the floor, then somehow Madara is right in his face, knocking them all back hard. His clone disappears in a puff of smoke; Kakashi isn’t ready for the barrage of memory and sensation that flies his way as his back hits the wall—the heat of his own body, seeing his own pleasure-drunk face as he moans and cries, watching Madara watching him, Madara whispering into his ear— _I want to watch you wreck yourself_ —and his cock pulses with the familiar throb of another impending orgasm.

“Madara, please!”

Madara growls something incomprehensible, grabs either side of Kakashi’s legs and pulls so their cocks are flush together, rubbing with every jerk and twitch. Kakashi opens his mouth to beg again, can’t bear the thought of being denied any longer, not like this, but his voice breaks on a moan as Madara wraps his fingers around both their lengths and squeezes.

Kakashi arches, and then they’re both rutting into Madara’s hand, rhythm sloppy and uncoordinated in desperate frenzy, but neither are stopping and it’s _good, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—_

They come within heartbeats of each other, all the way up their stomachs and chests in thick splatters. Kakashi groans, legs tightening around Madara’s thighs to ride out the waves of his orgasm, hips rocking slowly together.

The throbbing finally quells into a stupor-inducing warmth, and he leans sideways, dragging them down to the bed so he can nestle more comfortably against Madara, uncaring of the mess between them.

Mostly because he knows Madara will clean up for both of them, fastidious man that he is. Right on cue, Madara grabs the tissue box from the window ledge and gives a perfunctory wipe over their bodies. A short, warm kiss, then Madara hefts himself out of bed to grab a cloth from the bathroom, coming back with a bottle of water. He offers the bottle with an extended hand, then huffs fondly and places it on the window ledge within arm’s reach when Kakashi doesn’t move an inch beyond a flutter of eyelashes and the twerk of lips up into a lazy smile.

“You should drink,” he says, as he wipes him down again, all the way from neck to ankle in a meticulous yet gentle massage. “You’re probably dehydrated after all that.”

“Later,” Kakashi dismisses in favour of leaning into Madara’s touch, content and sated. He sighs happily when Madara works out the tension in his thighs, blissed out and practically melting back into his bed. “Mm, Madara, are you satisfied?”

A chuckle, the rustle of sheets as a blanket is pulled over his body.

“Yes, Kakashi, I am very satisfied.”

“Good.”

Kakashi closes his eyes, drifting softly while he waits for Madara to put the cloth away and flick off the lights, then snuggles back into the Uchiha’s warmth the moment he slides into bed.

“Because,” he continues sleepily into Madara’s shoulder, “I expect to be twice as satisfied next time round.”

An amused snort, a hand curling around his waist.

“I look forward to it.”

Under the cover of night, Kakashi grins.

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments highly appreciated!<3


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